


The dull flame of desire

by Granddaughter_Ogg



Series: First time with the Horsemen [1]
Category: Darksiders (Video Games)
Genre: Consensual, F/M, First Time, Gentle Sex, Kissing, Loss of Virginity, Love Confessions, Only for a while tho, Orgasm, POV Second Person, Pain, Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-25
Updated: 2019-03-25
Packaged: 2019-12-07 21:14:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,477
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18240257
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Granddaughter_Ogg/pseuds/Granddaughter_Ogg
Summary: You and Death had this...thing going on for a while now.One night you ask Death to introduce you to the magical and confusing world of sex. He complies.This is basically a fic for all of you out there who had a terrible first time - because here everything goes just dandy. :)





	The dull flame of desire

You never felt as courageous – and as stupid – as the night when you told him.

That…thing that you two had going on. It was for real, no second thoughts about it. But what was it that you had, exactly?

A friendship? Sure. But do all friends casually doze off in one bed, only to find themselves firmly embraced by their silent companion in the morning? Somehow you doubted it. (Death seldom slept at all. Time after time you’d wake up and look straight into that piercing stare of his. He had eyes like burning embers. You’d almost choke on your breath, while he’d simply unfurl his arms, letting you go. And then turn away and rise from the bed as if nothing really happened. You’d have to sit still for a long while and wait until your heart stops pounding. You never talked about this.)

More than friendship, then. A flirt? The Pale Rider was as apt in the frivolous art of romance as you were useful on the battlefield. Which means: not really.

Sure, you two exchanged a lot of playful banter. Also, there were times when he went out of his way to make you know that you’re appreciated. A kind note, tapering the usual wry edge in his voice. A firm hug (which always took you by surprise.) A long, thoughtful stare whenever you told him something personal. He would ruffle your hair or graze the small of your back while passing by. He made you tea. And his tea was nothing to wrinkle your nose at. Only Azrael brew better.

And yeah, there were also those brief, crazy moments after the hug…when you didn’t feel like breaking contact just yet. Being so close to him made your head swirl. So you kept embracing him, breathless, and he would trace your lower lip with the tip of his finger and then he would bend down and kiss you -

OK, maybe those were not so brief.

The kiss lingered every time it happened. Death was shockingly restrained in that matter. His lips covered yours with silent urgency that set your blood aflame, but he never did anything…wild.

Even though you wanted him to.

You yearned for his touch more and more with every passing day. Your fervent imagination produced would-be’s, one more outlandish than the last. Death tearing your top off, burying his sharp features in your cleavage. Death restraining both of your wrists with one hand, pinning you to the wall and covering your neck with bruising kisses. Knocking you down and ravishing you there and then…

Yeah.

 _I have to tell him,_ you reasoned with yourself while lying in bed back to back with the object of your deliberations. His pointy, protruding spine pleasantly grazed your own.

_I really should. It’s not fair for him to **not** **know**. _

_But if he does…he might not even want_ _me_ _anymore._

He might shrug and say something to the effect of „that is not my problem.”

„ _Ugh. Seriously? What are you, like, fifteen?”_

„ _Nah, you might get clingy afterwards.”_

„ _I don’t want a virgin.”_

You’ve heard this all before. You’ve been made to feel like a failure. Like somehow you’re less of a woman. As if your lack of sexual experience was an unwanted burden.

But then again…none of them arseholes literally went to Hell and back with you.

None of them protected you from hordes of savage demons. Time after time again. Heck, those dudes were so squeamish that sight of a used tampon made them whimper.

None of them were impressive, nigh-immortal entities well versed in carnage and caustic wit. Not like Death.

„Hey D”, you said with a strained voice. „You asleep yet?”

„I’m not.” How you loved that deep, raspy timbre of his. Everything he said sounded so purposeful.

And sexy as hell, yeah. That too.

„Can we talk?”

You expected one of those long, deep sighs. But when no one else was around, Death really toned down that aloof act of his. The bedsheets rustled as he turned to face you. It was almost dark in there (that lone candle that you left on flickered weakly by the window), but you could still make out the outline of his features. And his glowing eyes.

Darkness was not an obstacle for this one.

„What is it, girl?”

 _Girl_. Death almost never used your name. He saved it for the most extreme circumstances. Like that one time when you were gravely injured and about to die. Or when _he_ was about to die.

Be brave, you admonished yourself. He’s not gonna make it any easier for you.

You took a deep breath.

„Death. I want you to have me.”

He tilted his head. Those long black strands of hair moved ever so slightly.

„I mean, I want you to make love to me.”

Geez, that came out sounding pompous. Like a line from some romance novel.

„This could be arranged.” Was there a smile lacing his words? Yes, there was.

You exhaled abruptly and went on headfirst:

„The problem is, I haven’t had my cherry popped yet.”

„…cherry?”

You grunted. „Unused, brand new. Mint condition. You know. And I don’t have much of an idea how it’s supposed to go, you see, so this can be a problem and…

„Wait a moment.” His long, cool finger brushed your lips. „If you’ve never been with a man before, which is what I believe you’re trying to tell me… (you nodded vigorously), then how can you know that you want to do it with me?”

 _Urk, Death, this really_ _ain’t_ _the time to be logical,_ you thought.

„Well, for one, I think you’re sex on legs.”

He let out a chortle.

„What makes you feel that way is beyond me. And the first time is no trifle. You could really do much better, you know.”

_Oh, here we fucking go._

„But I love you”, you blundered.

He inhaled sharply - and went quiet for what felt like forever. You bit your lip and endured the silence.

„I am…honoured”, he said softly. You waited for the inevitable „but” with bated breath.

Instead, he just added: „I had no idea that this was the case.”

„Well…you know now, dumbass.” You tried your damnedest to sound plucky, even though your voice was breaking.

Death must’ve heard that because his hand gently rested on your cheek. You pressed your face against it, eager for his touch.

He leaned in so close that his sharp nose grazed yours.

„Are you sure about this?”

„I am. There’s no one else in the whole world that I’d rather do it with.”

„Right now?”

„Yeah! I’m…I’m so done with waiting.”

„So be it.” That was nothing more than a tender whisper.

He held your face in his palms and kissed you. Gently - at first. You shut your eyes and weaved your fingers in his raven hair, tugging urgently at the nape of his neck. Death answered with a low grunt and went in with almost bruising force. You felt as if caught on a rollercoaster ride. His administrations sent a jolt down your spine, inflaming your soft, wanting insides.

He just kissed you on the lips, but your whole body lit up.

Then he kissed the soft skin under your jaw. Then your shoulder. Then the hollow of your neck. Then - that taut spot just below your collarbone.

You let out a weirdly high-pitched, tremulous sound.

He stopped what he was doing and shot you an alert glare.

„Are you all right?”

„Yeah…” You held his cheek with a slightly trembling hand. „I’m, like, really good here. Just…excited!”

His lips curled up with a smug expression.

„I appreciate that.”

Hi tugged tentatively on the collar of that old, stretched T-shirt that you always slept in. „That thing is in my way,” he murmured. You got goosebumps.

„Take it off me”, you gasped.

He did – in one swift movement. Suddenly you were naked under Death’s smouldering glare. He supported himself on an elbow and took all of you in. All the curves. All those little and not-so-little imperfections that you spent hours of your life agonising over.

Somehow it didn’t matter. For there was no disapproval in his eyes.

You’ve remembered that old Russian poem called _The Dull Flame of Desire_ and finally understood exactly what that means. Death’s sight went somewhat darker while still being fiery.

He covered your body with kisses; on your breasts, on your soft stomach, on the taut skin of the hip. You could tell where this was going, but his deliberate lack of rush made your blood boil.

„D, don’t taunt me like that. I can’t take it”, you pleaded.

He let out a little laugh and sucked on your nipples, one after another – and then grazed them with his teeth. Hard. You almost cried out of this strange sensation; pain mixed with sharp arousal. It was as if he tugged at some string hid deep inside you. Your nether regions got wet.

Like, wetter than before.

Death must’ve had eyes at the back of his head too because he noticed. He lifted you up and sat you on the bedsheets. One of his long arms curled possessively around you, moving up your back. The other one crept down, oh, so very down and started to play with your yearning entrance. He applied just the right amount of force, massaging your sweet spot and sliding two fingers up and down through your inner folds. You let out a shivering, helpless moan and felt utterly embarrassed. But the thought of stifling it left your mind once you looked up and noticed your lover’s expression.

He enjoyed your arousal. Judging from the half-lidded stare and that little smirk curling his lips, he savoured it. And that riled you up even more.

Death positioned himself just behind you so that you were sitting between his legs, his torso pressed tightly to your back. All this while not breaking pace. With his body so close, his lips caressing your neck and his knowing fingers entwined in your dripping pussy, both your mind and your body started to unravel.

„Wait,” you gasped. „Oh, wait, I’m gonna come…”

„Which was the purpose all along,” he murmured in your ear.

„Death, you stop right now and listen to me.”

He did. You turned your head and looked him in the eye with as much resolve as you could muster while being a quivering, breathless, horny mess. You wanted him so much that it hurt.

„I want you so much that it hurts. But not like that. I want to lose my virginity properly. All the way. Like, on a dick.”

„You do realise that there is no such thing as _a proper way_ , right?” Death tilted his head, lift his tainted hand to his lips and licked it – almost absentmindedly. His eyes flickered. „What do you know. You’re tasty.”

„Thanks. I do know that there is no proper way”, you said. „But I don’t care. I just…just take me already!…”

„This is going to hurt.”

You all but shrugged.

„Yeah, I reckon.”

Death shook his head – his black hair flipped - and let out a small, amused sigh.

„I honestly don’t know what to admire more; your utter recklessness or your sex drive”, he said with a playful snicker.

„It’s easy for you because you’re like, all calm and detached!” you snapped.

Death’s grip closed around your waist and flipped you on your back. It took him about two seconds tops to pin you to the mattress. Your breath hitched. Suddenly you were immobile, covered with that large, muscular body of his, which smelled like dead leaves under November rain. Mixed with a sharp tinge of arousal.

You could feel how hard he was, pressing urgently against your wetness. _Oh god._

You moaned.

„I. Am. Not. Calm.” Each word was like a bark, his eyes wide, burning with something feral. „Neither. Am I. Detached.”

You laughed breathlessly, gripped at his neck and pulled him into a vehement kiss. Your tongues entwined and your hips started a dance of their own, grinding on his.

He didn’t ask any more. Just took you as you wished to be taken.

You gave out a sharp cry. Death must’ve got only a few inches in, and you already knew what he was talking about. Nothing in the whole world could prepare you for this sensation. You felt as if your whole body is fighting against his, clenching around him so hard that it must have _hurt_.

„Breathe, girl” he whispered, looking at your strained expression with a mix of lust and worry; the strangest combination. „Just breathe deeply. Nose in, mouth out. Come on.” His fingers went between your bodies and started to circle slowly around your clit.

You breathed spasmodically as if your life depended on it. That vicious knot in your insides finally loosened up.

„There.” Death smiled. „Ready for more of that fun?”

„Ah-hah.”

The next thrust was long and fluid. Almost elegant. You could tell that he buried himself to the hilt in you.

You cried out again, but softer. You felt - stretched. Filled to the brim with his hardness, that indomitable presence that hurt you, but also kinda set you on fire. Discomfort and pleasure intertwined really closely here. You weren’t sure what that means.

„You’re all right?” Death leaned in, his thick black eyebrows knitted. What kind of self-restraint must this man possess to even care while he…

While he fucked you.

„I love you”, you gasped, feeling tears forming in your eyes. „I love you. Go on. Possess me.”

„Ah, so you like pain. How interesting.”

He moved back and forth, back and forth until all the pain faded away and there was only pleasure left. A strange, unknown kind of pleasure, so harsh and feral, different from everything that you’ve ever experienced while playing with yourself. But a pleasure nonetheless. It grew in leaps and bounds until you moaned so much that your throat got hoarse. You could get used to this.

Death knew. He swayed you in a calm, steady rhythm while covering your mouth and neck with kisses. He breathed a little heavier than usual, but not one uncontrolled sound has left his lips. You wondered if that’s how he always is.

You wondered what it takes to make this man cry from pleasure.

Cause you were _wailing._

„Don’t stop this time, okay?..” you gasped between the moans, pressing your chapped lips to his ear. That stare that he shot you was debauchery incarnate.

„I don’t intend to,” he whispered. „Go on. Come for me.”

The wave of delight came crushing over and sunk your mind with its sticky sweetness. But before you went there, you heard Death say your name.

**Author's Note:**

> Comments recharge authors, you know. :) Don't hesitate to leave me some.
> 
> The poem in question is by one Fyodor Tyutchev and it goes like this:
> 
> I love your eyes, my dear  
> Their splendid sparkling fire
> 
> When suddenly you raise them so  
> To cast a swift embracing glance
> 
> Like lightning flashing in the sky  
> But there's a charm that is greater still
> 
> When my love's eyes are lowered  
> When all is fired by passion's kiss
> 
> And through the downcast lashes  
> I see the dull flame of desire


End file.
